


Green Eyes

by hey-cas (kendra)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kendra/pseuds/hey-cas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The memories of past lives lived all fade as quickly as they came and Michael’s shaking by the end of it. Maybe it’s a fair warning (<i>run and never look back</i>) or maybe it’s a sign (<i>he is your destiny</i>) but he doesn’t care either way. He knows what he has to do, has known it since the moment his fingers touched the small of that back.</p><p>He calls, "Hey!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a post made by imagineyuorotp: Imagine your OTP meeting again after being reincarnated, seeing each other on the street, connecting for an intense and brief moment then walking right past each other never to meet again.
> 
> But that was kinda angsty and I don't like angst. So it's fluffy and stupid, just like the boys involved.

He didn’t even want to come to this fucking mall. Why, oh lord tell him why, he agreed to come to this hell hole with Ray? It’s crowded (fucking spring break; _shouldn’t you little bastards be studying?_ ) and hot ( _motherfucking Texas_ ) and smells like teen spirit ( _which smells like sweat and desperation_ ). Every time he turns around, Michael nearly runs into another person. He’s stopped muttering “sorry” after a bleach blonde fifteen year old gave him the stink eye (Teenage girls: the singular reason for low self-esteem since the beginning of time itself). 

Michael swiftly moves out of another teenager’s way as he tries to keep up with Ray, who’s bouncing from store to store. The little bastard just ducked into Spencer’s Gifts and Michael steps up his speed to try and catch his friend. 

He doesn’t see the other man until his shoulder is aching with pain. Instinctively, his arms grab the slimmer body to steady the both of them, firmly holding a thin waist in his palms. Hands wrap around his forearms and, although they’re cool as water, they seem to burn hot on Michael’s skin. 

Both of the men pause for a minute before letting the other go at the same time. “Sorry,” Michael says this time because he practically just molested a stranger and breaching personal space requires apologies. 

“No, I’m sorry.” Michael looks up at the smooth British accent that sounds familiar, like sleeping in your own bed after a long trip. The man runs a hand through his feathery sandy-blond hair and takes a tiny step back, looking sheepish. 

Michael looks up the few inches that separate them and his eyes lock with the stranger’s, clear green staring back. There’s a goofy smile on the other’s face but it fades as those eyes flicker across Michael’s face. There’s a question forming behind those eyes and Michael already knows it because those same words are dancing on the tip of his tongue: _Do I know you?_ Those bright eyes are begging for answers that Michael can’t give. 

The only thing he can give is the feeling that’s boiling under his skin, boring down through liters of blood until they hit the bone. Michael knows this stranger; knows everything about him, he’s sure of it. He’s just not sure how.

Realization that he’s been staring dawns and he forces a chuckle, raising his hand to the back of his neck and rubbing at the warm skin he finds there. The other man returns the laugh before they do an awkward nod and move around each other, both returning to the direction each were originally going. 

Michael’s heart is hammering in his chest and his legs are protesting the distance that’s slowly separating them. Michael feels like a fucking idiot but he glances over his shoulder to catch one last look of the man he seems to know yet cannot place. He catches the other doing the same thing and something lurches in his stomach. 

Suddenly, his mind is bombarded with memories, memories that aren’t possible to possess but some how he does. They flash before his eyes, like some lame movie montage:

Michael’s dressed in Roman armor, blood drenched on his face and hands, leaving black dots on the remains of the battle field around him. The chaos had died down, leaving him and his fellow soldiers victorious. He should feel excited but as he stares down at the body of the man he just slain the only thing he feels is loss. Vacant green eyes stare back and his whole world lurches and stops. Michael falls to his knees and weeps over the still body of his lover. This isn’t the freedom he fought for. Not at all.

It fades and another memory takes its place: they’re behind a barricade, the French flag flying proudly in the wind. Bullets are raining down above them and Michael’s grip on his gun tightens until his knuckles threaten to rip through skin. Gentle fingers touch his wrist just as the shouts of the barricade collapsing rise above the horror surrounding them. Secret smiles are shared and Michael begins to lean towards shining green eyes. With their fingers interlaced, they both die before their lips have a chance to meet one last time. 

This time, he’s walking into the Parthenon, joyful, as he comes to revere his goddess Athena. She’s recently blessed him with an unrivaled love and it’s his duty to acknowledge and give thanks that blessing. His lover finds him soon after, exotic green eyes dancing in mirth as humid air ruffles his light brown hair. Michael has never been more in love. As they leave the Parthenon, hand in hand, a man, who’s eyes are dark with hate approaches them, spewing words of malice. His lover, as stupid as he is brave, steps forward, only to be stabbed in the gut by the man with the daughter Michael refused to marry. The hate fades to fear at the bloody scene laid before him. The man runs soon after Michael falls to his knees. He presses sweet kisses to his lovers face, holding the wound closed as best as he can. (Blood stains his hands long after they’re washed clean and his lover pronounced dead.)

Hunger and hope burn in his gut as the scene changes once again. Texan crop is running dry but he’s heard that California has miles of farms that need hands. They pack up everything they have and drive away from the only home they’ve ever known along with hundreds of others. They find work here and there but the green eyes die of influenza in a barn at some farm in Utah. Weeks later, the farmer’s daughter finds Michael’s body dead from a broken heart.

After that, Michael’s a broken man hunting ghosts, ghouls and demons. He believes in nothing but the gun in his hand and the pavement at his tires. He’s a killer of the evil but he saves people. Hunts things. It’s the family business. His father died in the family business and so does he. After his death, he remembers pain, tears, blood pooling in his mouth and bubbling down his chin. He remembers a demon’s offer and takes it. He remembers the terror in other’s eyes as his weakness resolves him to save himself instead of others. He remembers a bright light and hands gripping him tight. He remembers waking in his own casket. But most importantly, he remembers the angel who saved him from hell. The bright green eyes and stupid smiles that would vanish the moment another brother would appear. The angel fell for him here, not just in love, but in grace as well. The angel chose Michael and humanity over brothers and paradise and he’s never felt more insignificant. The angel died in his arms, leaving the burned imprint of his wings across Michael’s chest, so close to the scar of the handprint that signified their “profound bond”. Michael would have proudly lived with that scar had he not died to a blade through his chest moments after the celestial being that was his whole world.

They all fade as quickly as they came and Michael’s shaking by the end of it. Maybe it’s a fair warning ( _run and never look back_ ) or maybe it’s a sign ( _he is your destiny_ ) but he doesn’t care either way. He knows what has to do, has known it since the moment his fingers touched the small of that back. 

He calls, “Hey!”

His destiny stops and turns, a happy confusion marking his perfect features. There’s a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth and he sucks in his lips and bites it. 

“I’m Michael!” he calls, one foot subconsciously surging forward; ready to take that first step (always ready to take a step for those damn eyes). 

The man takes his own step forward, until they’re walking back towards each other, invading each other’s personal space. With a large smile on his face, he says, “And my name is Gavin.” 

Michael has seen every bloody, tragic ending but as their hands meet in the middle – more holding than shaking – he finally sees their beginning.

And it is a beautiful beginning.


End file.
